


Never Before, Never Since

by AQLM



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AQLM/pseuds/AQLM
Summary: Samara meets Garrus and Kaidan after the end of the Reaper War.





	Never Before, Never Since

Samara stood on the presidium, scanning the crowds below for her target. The crush of people celebrating the end of the Reaper War had obscured her view, but Samara knew the gait and habits of her prey. Soon enough the throngs would disperse. They had already begun to thin, the main part of the day’s events over at the twilight, and she was able to move with more than a fingertip between her and the others on the Presidium. And if justice were not mete out today, tomorrow would do just as well. 

“Justicar? Justicar Samara?”

A gravely voice, deepened by age, called her with incredulous familiarity. She turned to see a wizened turian gently pushing aside the tourists that blocked his path. She smiled as she surveyed his face. Time had reduced the scar to a blackened memory, though his remaining eye had never dimmed and bore the glint of a warrior still. 

“Garrus Vakarian. An unexpected surprise. How fare you?”

Before he could answer, a slight human with greying hair took a biotic-aided step to stand beside him, a quizzical look on his gently-lined face. He took the opportunity to glance between the two of them and relaxed into a smile.

“Garrus,” said the human. “If you would do me the honors of being introduced to our esteemed guest?”

“Ah, yes, manners. Never quite got the hang of those,” grinned Garrus. “Kaidan Alenko, please meet Justicar Samara, who came with us on our suicide mission…well, our first one at least…to defeat the Collectors. Samara, this is…”

She cut him off with an incline of her head. “Your deeds precede you, Colonel Alenko, second human Spectre, and Savior of the Citadel.”

He smiled, a quiet dimple appearing on one pale cheek. “I am honored to be known by one such as you, justicar. Few have not heard the deeds of your order in the annals of history.”

Garrus looked between the two of them and put up a three-fingered hand. “Right, now that introductions are accomplished and we’re done praising each other…” Kaidan laughed and shook his head. “Samara, what brings you to the Citadel? Come to hear Councilor Aligood’s yearly retelling of the Shepard mythos? Or just want to buy the usual Presidium fare at twice the normal price because it’s a holiday?”

“Neither, Mr. Vakarian. I am hunting a foe of the Code.”

“Of course, Justicar. We should not keep you from your task. I’ve learned never to get between Samara and her quarry. Lots of throwing and screaming tend to result.”

The instinct in her that desired leaving stumbled over her desire for kinship. It had been decades since her last friendly conversation, she realized. Quick words with ship’s captains or smooth speeches among the crowds were her norm and had been for hundreds of years. When was the last time someone had made a joke and included her in the laughter?

She hesitated and gave in. “I may corner her in her domain later today. It will be less dangerous to the crowds should she decide to flee.”

“A wise choice,” agreed Kaidan. “No sense injuring the innocent 

“I can put C-sec on the lookout if you’d like,” offered Garrus. “I don’t know many of the new recruits but I bet a few old-timers would do me a favor.” His typical sarcasm kicked in. “Or at least look the other way if you assassinate someone in broad daylight on the Presidium.”

“That will not be necessary, Garrus, but your thoughts are appreciated.” She smiled up at him. “Are you two also enjoying the event? Have you seen others from the Normandy?”

He gestured up towards a floating pavilion. “Just finished our yearly reunion. We get together, celebrate the living, toast the dead, and eat outrageous amounts of food all on the Alliance’s dime.”

“We also trade war stories we have inflated to the point of ridiculousness and do a surprising amount of admiring small children,” added Kaidan. “I swear Liara and James pop out another one every other year.”

“He says they’re going for a full commando unit. When Ariadne is born, I think that will round out the bunch.” Kaidan rolled his eyes and Samara’s smile flowered uninhibited across her face. “In all seriousness, we’re pretty lucky. Most of us can still make it each year, even if Joker cruises in on a mass effect-powered wheelchair. More weddings and births than deaths.”

“Goddess willing, that will be the case for still many more years.” 

“Well, we can’t all live for a millennium but we’re doing our best.” Kaidan’s smile was gentle and disarming. “So yes, we’ve seen our friends. But this is a more…private tradition.”

Garrus looked at Kaidan and an unspoken conversation occurred between them. Garrus’ mandibles moved once and Kaidan flickered up one dark brown eyebrow. 

“Then please do not let me intrude,” added Samara, feeling the pain of a social misstep in so rare a circumstance.

“Actually, we’d like you to join us,” reassured Garrus. “Might be nice for Kaidan to have someone to help him finish that bottle of whiskey.” In the face of their kindness, she did not find it in her to use the Code to excuse herself. 

They procured a skyscar and whirred far up from the Presidium. She had expected them to stop at one of the many restaurants or bars that arched into the broad space. Then she expected they might visit one of the many floating gardens. Then observe the statuary that adorned the wards. Instead, they swooped higher until the vehicle floated even with one of the struts supporting the arms. The three got out and Samara found herself with a dizzying view of the rest of the Citadel. She was grateful for both her own biotics and that of her companion as they maneuvered carefully to the midpoint. To her surprise, two glasses sat untouched between the metal rivets

“I’m always impressed the Keepers don’t take them away,” said Kaidan, “but I suppose there are better things for them to do than run off with Liara’s best crystal once a year.” He picked up one and offered it to Samara, who demurred. “Oh, sorry, does the Code…”

“It is allowed for me to enjoy an intoxicant under such circumstances as these. Given our particular situation…”

“Right, someone needs to make sure we don’t fall off.” Garrus produced a bottle from his pouch and poured out a green liquid into one of the cups.

“We haven’t yet,” mused Kaidan. He produced a small bottle of whiskey and filled the shot to the top.

Then Garrus pulled out a battered sniper rifle from on his back and assembled it with comfortable speed. She recognized the weapon, one that had ended the lives of so many foes in defense of the galaxy. He gingerly held it in one clawed hand. Then he raised his drink in concert with Kaidan.

“To Shepard, the best woman I ever loved,” said Kaidan and drained his cup to the bottom in a single burning gulp. “Never before, never since.”

“To Shepard, the only woman I ever loved,” echoed Garrus, doing the same with his alcohol. He breathed out harshly at the end. “Never before, never since.”

With a biotic throw, both glasses sailed off into the distance, then exploded into a shimmer of glass as Garrus sniped each one out of the sky with his typical flare. Samara watched the fragments float down and disperse in the artificial wind.

The two men lowered themselves to the truss and Samara did the same. Her confusion registered visibly, as Kaidan began the conversation while Garrus poured himself another shot.

“I fell in love with Shepard on the first Normandy. I watched her die and couldn’t forgive myself. For two awful years put her behind me, or at least I tried. And when she came back, I couldn’t let go of my anger at Cerberus…and…”

“And…I was lucky enough to hold her heart for three amazing years before the Reapers took her.” Garrus he looked down at his glass and swished the liquid back and forth. 

“Neither one of you…found love again?” Samara looked at the two men, whose braggadocio had vanished into a solemn moment of remembrance. 

“I met Jonathan about ten years ago,” said Kaidan. His face softened. “It was a whirlwind romance, well, as much as two old men can have. We’re happy. It’s a good marriage. We’ve raised his twins. I’m even a grandfather.” He let out a half-chuckle. “John says he always wanted to thank Shepard for ruining all women for me. Otherwise he would not have stood a chance.”

Garrus’ voice bore no levity. “I…did my part after the war. Preserved the Vakarian bloodline. Added to the repopulation of Palavan. Reneya was…patient with me. Understanding. Maybe even…accepting of her place. I didn’t blame her when she finally left. It’s hard when your husband is in love with a ghost.” He ran his fingers over the barrel of the rifle. “I think she stayed as long as she did to make sure I had something to hang onto after she left.” He shrugged. “I have seven children, an illustrious career in the turian military, two colonies that I’ve helped found, and one brand of sniper rifle named after me.” His gravely voice dropped to a whisper. “I’d trade them all…”

The incessant whir of the skycars filled the long silence that followed. 

“Everyone knew her as the hero, the savior, the leader, the soldier,” said Kaidan, “We were the only two who knew the woman.”

Samara remembered the woman. She remembered revealing her travels, deepest secrets, her shame, her loneliness. She remembered her feelings spiraling beyond what she thought possible. She remembered the night Shepard came to her quarters. She remembered the deep and alluring words, the feel of her hands clutching Samara’s, the heat of her breath on Samara’s face before Samara halted the kiss. She remembered the flame that Shepard had slowly kindled and that burned a hole in Samara’s heart that never sealed. She remembered the hour they had spent together in the apartment, talking, sitting, until Samara fled the Citadel to keep from letting her love manifest. A party invitation she never acknowledged because she feared where it could lead. She replayed that last conversation, over and over, until the memory was as engrained as a sutra. Her centuries of isolation had never bothered her. The daily solitude for a mere three decades after Shepard’s brief and brilliant interlude was torturous in ways she never had expected. 

“Three, then,” said Kaidan, quietly. 

Samara did not turn him aside, but she could not divulge as openly as he or Garrus. Instead she managed, “She was a remarkable woman. In my hundreds of years, I have never and will never meet a woman like her.” The rest of the memories, the need, the never-made love, the never said desire, wrapped around her words and choked them tight. 

“We were all lucky to have been with her,” said Garrus, turning to face Samara. 

His sniper’s eyes bored through her but carried no anger or accusation. Their love for Shepard must have been concurrent – the young couple’s relationship came soon after Samara’s denial of Shepard. Shepard would have never divulged the nature of her interaction with Samara but Garrus was trained in observation. He could discern in the wisps of dust moved by silent winds, in the twitches of a man’s face when he itches to pull his weapon. How many hours had they, as assassin and justicar, as turian and asari, man and woman, battled the Collectors together? How many hours had they spent in idle banter within cramped shuttles or in the mess hall? 

She prided herself on her discretion, even at this very moment. She never spoke the words. But Garrus knew. Garrus had always known. That was why he brought her to this place, that she could share the bittersweet and burning cup that was their love for Shepard.

He conjured his usual demeanor. “So, we come up here every year to remember her by, well, shooting things on the Citadel because that’s what she and I did. Then we go down and get thoroughly trashed on the cheapest liquor we can find, pass out in a bar, and wake up in the men’s bathroom.”

“Because that’s also what she did,” laughed Kaidan. He eased himself to standing with a great deal of groaning and popping. Garrus did the same and disassembled the weapon, putting it in its case, and walking back towards the skycar. 

“I’m almost positive the Code doesn’t allow that,” said Garrus. “But you’re welcome to chaperone if you want.”

“No, thank you. I think I will meditate up here before returning to the hunt. Your companionship has been most welcome. Both of you. Thank you for…” She swallowed hard, centuries of self-control pushing tears back, but for once, with effort.

“We do this every year, Samara. I know Liara tries to send invitations but there’s no good extranet address for a wandering solider. Still, Remembrance Day doesn’t move. You’re part of the Normandy. There’s plenty of food and laughter to go around.” He turned to leave, but glanced back and said, “And if you need to get off this beam, just page the taxi. I don’t think even you could do an effective swan dive into the pools.”

Garrus paused and placed his hand on her shoulder, the first casual contact her body had felt in years. It electrified her for an anxious moment. He twisted up the scarred side of his mouth in a careful half-smile. “Next year, I’ll have Kaidan bring an extra glass. You know, to see if I can shoot three for three after an afternoon of heavy drinking.” 

“I…” Her declining his invitation fought its way to her lips, but she did not speak it. “I will try,” she decided. It was the compromise between her justicar control and the anguished memories that ached to be shared, even in silence.

“Good. If your travels bring you here, you are welcome.” He walked to the skycar and slipped off, leaving her alone on the truss.

She had not told them her Remembrance Day ritual was to seek a criminal on the Citadel and dispense justice in honor of Shepard. She did not say she received the invitation each year and covertly watched each affair. Watched them multiply and age. Watched them grow, laugh, love, and die in turn. Watched from afar. Chosen her path to be separate, now as she had then. Perhaps next year she would stand among them as she had never done before. Or perhaps she would stay as she was. 

“Shepard,” she said aloud. “The most wonderful woman I ever loved.” She paused and smiled. “Never before. Never since.” She sat a little while longer, then stood, gazed down, and leapt off the truss. She let her biotic field drift her safely to the ground once more. Then she found her target, an asari matriarch guilty of unspeakable acts, and ended her life with a single bullet.

She returned each year to hunt, to watch from afar, and to remember privately. Then she would share that bottle with Garrus and Kaidan until she was the only one left to drink from it. She returned to see the gathering dwindle to three old souls and a cluster of endless descendants. She returned to watch the history of Shepard metamorphosize into the legend of Shepard. And when she felt in her bones that it would be her last visit to the Citadel, she made her preparations. She took the skycar to the truss and walked with sure steps to their preferred meeting ground.

She placed three glasses, two bottles of whiskey – one dextro, one levo - and one beloved rifle upon the metal strut. 

They remain undisturbed to this day.


End file.
